KotORII: The Ebon Hawk's Aborted Songfest
by LD Little Dragon
Summary: Enroute to Dantooine, Mira suggests a night of fun for the crew that leads to T3 embarrassing Mandalore.


KotORII silliness, set in the same universe as my KotORI fic 'Two Days Leave' (belated thanks to the reviewers of that fic, it's nice to know some people like the Canderous/Revan pairing)

With apologies to the late Edwin Starr

**The Ebon Hawk's Aborted Songfest**

Karrel had gathered the crew of the Ebon Hawk, except Kreia who never socialized, for one last briefing before they reached Dantooine. "So," he said. "Has everyone got that?"

"The last of the Jedi Council are on Dantooine, and you're going back to them like a good little Jedi," Atton said. "How much do you want to bet they'll send us all on some suicide mission?"

"Sucker bet," Mira muttered.

"We will do what we must," Karrel said sternly. "Can't say I trust the Council myself. We'd best be prepared for anything."

"More training?" Mira pouted. "I'm sick of dueling and tactics. I think we're all damned good at what we do. What we need is a night of relaxation."

"Fine with me," Karrel said in a more amiable tone. He sat down, leaned back, and put his feet up on the table. "I could use a break."

"Who's up for pazaak?" Atton asked, and the assemblage groaned.

"How about some music?" Mira asked.

"Sure!" Atton said brightly. "I know some good ones:"

_ There was once a Bith from Pal'rute_

_ Who found a new use for her flute ..._

"Not you," Mira said, slapping the back of his head. "I've never heard any Echani songs. Maybe the Handmaiden could share one with us?"

Karrel looked up from the chair where he had been half asleep. "That's not a good idea. I've heard Echani poetry."

"Again you mock me," Handmaiden hissed.

"No, no," Karrel said, standing up as though to approach Handmaiden, and then sitting down again when she glared at him. "It's just that Mira wants something to take her mind off the coming battles, and, well, Echani culture is rooted in warfare and combat."

"I never thought of that," Mira said, scrunching her nose as she studied the stone-faced Echani woman. "Echani songs are probably horribly militant. Just as bad as the Mandalorian stuff, I bet."

"Have you ever heard our music?" Mandalore asked, scowling across the room at Mira.

"Like we have to," Atton drawled. "I can guess how the standard Mandalorian song would go:"

_War, war, war, war._

_War, war, war, war._

_War, war, war, war._

_Oh yeah!_

"That sounds about right," Mira agreed, laughing. "Or, maybe something like:"

_War - Huh - Yeah_

_What is it good for?_

_Absolutely everything!_

"Uh-huh," Atton added, before breaking up with laughter, ignoring the looks of disgust sent his way by both Mandalore and Handmaiden.

"Dweet, beep, beep, doo-whit!" T3 chittered excitedly.

"You're kidding," Karrel said, dropping his feet from the table, and looking at the little droid with disbelief.

"What'd he say?" Mara said, poking Bao-Dur in the ribs.

"He said he's got a holo of Mandalore serenading General Revan back when they were crewing this ship," he answered.

"That droid's delusional," Mandalore rasped when all eyes turned towards him.

"Something about a celebration on Kashyyyk, potent native narcotics, and Wookie style clothing," Bao-Dur translated after listening to T3 for a minute.

"But," Mira interrupted. "Wookie's don't wear ... eww."

"Right," Mandalore said, scowling menacingly at the little droid. "His memory programs are obviously malfunctioning."

"Beep, dwooo?" T3 chirped, rolling backwards until it hit the wall farthest from Mandalore.

"Yeah," Mandalore continued. "Be a shame if the problem got worse, and we had to scrap the rustbucket."

Even though no one was armed, the sound of a rifle being cocked seemed to fill the room as Mandalore stood up with a dangerous glint in his eye. "I'll leave you children to your little diversions," he said as he stalked down the corridor.

Once Mandalore was out of range of hearing, Mira turned towards T3 with a hopeful look. "Now, about that holo ..."

"Dwoooooo," T3 piped, dying off at the end.

"What holo?" Bao-Dur translated.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For the curious, I present in full:**  
**

**Atton's Limerick**

_There was once a Bith from Pal'rute,_

_Who found a new use for her flute._

_With uncanny skill,_

_And malicious will,_

_Through it's length deadly spitballs she'd shoot._


End file.
